The way you make me feel, baby!

Hail the superstar that keeps me from burning
Hail the rock star who keeps the guitar strings churning
new ballads, new poems, new love songs or two,
Hail the superwoman am yet to woo.

Here's to the beauty that's shinier than gold
Here's to the saying that eyes never grow old
Here's to the tan that doesn't need no Sun
that brings beaches to shame, and that's no pun!

To the person I never met but I think
I have mated more than I have breathed this birth,
If Valentine meant the one you love..
then you're the one who scored all above!

Happy Woman's Day

However past you go to.
However recent you're in.
Whichever mythology you swear by,
This, you just cannot deny.

Being the perfect lap for you to sleep,
Being the better hand to know when to feed
Being the tight slap to know what's the line
and which way to look when crossing the road.

Being the soft one of the siblings
Being the one to share all her feelings
Littlest of things and smallest of joy
Making you fit to be a healthy-wealthy boy!

Being the ear when the world ceases to listen
Being the shoulder when tears cease to open
Being the hand to hold after the afterglow
In love and in trust she makes you a man.

So in all entirety, she makes yo live
your way, or any way you can probably jive.
Don't try to go beneath, for you cannot fathom
the timeless depth of a complete woman!

Cuttin the craa..

Maybe it's just the time
maybe it's just a phrase
Maybe it's over the top
Just another Rat-race.

Maybe the song has no tune
Maybe it's pure fortune
Maybe it's touch and feel
Back to back, real to reel.

Spring got me into it!

Believe me, it's not me.
It's the spring.

I don't know how but it always starts the night it rains. or rained.
It slowly transforms into a language. It takes a figure.
The clouds pass by and horizon is seen.
and you can start drawing with borrowed art papers.

It follows the usual route.
Smiling in the dark, smiling for no reason.
Sounding stupid, cheesy and on the borders of boringly funny.
Hiding from one and all, and holding it out in the open.
With secrets hanging bare in the open to dry.

Those who know, will know.
Unfortunately, those who knew, are no more.
But you can't speed up in this route, on whichever car you drive..
either the drive;s awesome or you're terrible at driving :P

It's all the same, similar. The hours, the minutes.. the movements!
The rationales of finding rationality, and then
negating it. Only to prove it again.
Viability study is as archaic as thinking, it seems!

You always loose to yourself when you don't want to win.
and who know, know how superstitious can winning get.
What can you change, when you see the cycle moving again
every blink fights a tear or two!

I tell you it's not me, it's the spring.
It's the time to rise in it,
Don't know why but I love doing it over and over...
Maybe the light is the brightest this time.

The Definition of Beauty!

Do you remember your dreams after you wake up?
Have you tested yourself the way you did to know exactly
when you slept off?
Do you remember the face you just saw in your dreams?

What if I told you I just dreamt awake?
What if I told you I just saw those strands of hair
covering just the exact geometric angle of pupil
that is where it does not hide the expressions?

What if you never know how much loved dark circles?
Or how much they rekindles that bent down part of yours which once wanted
to burn the midnight oil rather than minting money?
Did you ever care to listen beyond your dreams.. the calls
to old blues which sounds more powerful than these reggae's of today?

Do you remember spelling beauty for the first time? Or the first time you imagined it?
You defined it for yourself.
Your very own set of prejudices,
your conserved sense of restricted media and local outlook,
and your embodiment of perfect with no extra r's in it?

You'll never know how you will feel if you never defined it... but
you will know what exactly I mean if you could see those lips
moving on your worst times.
and you sense.. no, you know,
that things will set square once those tresses are parted again.
And, you, in all your existence, just waited for that moment to come.

To capture. To love.
Till the point it's unbearable again.

What does the mirror say?

So when it begins, as always, seems sunny and sexy.

You tend to march, even in April!
You believe in togetherness, you believe in unity.
Even more dangerous, you believe in the power of youth.
You read history books of renaissance and revolutions,
And think to throttle the incumbent one day!

Whew! Actually, phew!
Amidst the belief of cutting across races and religions,
provinces and priorities, you think signatures of youth still holds..
You know the ones like drugs, pornography and late nights!

O ignorant! O innocent!
Only if you knew letter of the law is only upheld when the spirit falls down!
The raunchy jokes and friendly pokes – those flaming shots and smoking pots,
smell good only when the coal’s red. For when it’s summer, it blooms.
And when it’s winter, it just fucking doesn’t.

For it’s real hard to break out of convention.
For you don’t even know what the umbilical cord missed to catch... Where you picked up the wrongs,
Where you mixed up rules with principles, and when you messed up human relations.

Growing up is as tough as breathing easy. Let’s not even go to breaking out.
When going gets tough, you go back to your cocoons.
And in your safe havens, you start spinning your own spider-web.

You’re the story teller. You’re king. You’re the judge.
That’s a massacre of a combination.

But dude, does it really matter?
What does the mirror say?